


Bowed and Bloody

by Anonymous



Series: All the Kink! [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, Community: spnkink_meme, Cunnilingus, Dubious Consent, F/M, Kink Bingo 2013, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn Battle, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 03:57:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abaddon has earned herself a respite from the tedium of ruling Hell – naturally, she plays with her pet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bowed and Bloody

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt _"Supernatural, Dean Winchester/Abaddon, blood, pet, Hell, collar, pegging, torture"_ at [Porn Battle XV](http://battle.oxoniensis.org/battle15prompts.html#S) and _"Abaddon/Dean, dub-con, bondage, pegging, confinement"_ from the [SPN kink_meme](http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/79365.html?thread=29357317#t29357317). If any of these were your prompts and you'd like this gifted, drop me a note.
> 
> Also fills _"torture / interrogation"_ on my kink_bingo card.

If your body matches what your eyes can do  
You'll probably move right through me on my way to you  


—Finger Eleven, _Paralyzer_  


Abaddon's skin prickles as she enters the cool warehouse where she keeps her treasures. Or intends to; there’s only one here, currently. More to follow soon, if all goes well.

A wicked smile curls her lips. The fun she would have then.

Her footsteps reverberate down the length of the empty space, always a step behind like a shadow prowling on her heels. In the center of the room, her riding crop caresses the metal bars they find there, skipping over them like a broken stutter.

“Time to wake up, lover,” she purrs.

His posture delights her, muscles stretched taut on the arms that are chained to the bars behind his head. She’s almost tempted to possess him, just to ascertain herself of the level of his discomfort. Feeling his pain is always a treat.

Slowly, he lifts his head and she’s almost giddy with excitement. What would it be this time: deference or defiance? Both options are thrilling; she has a plan for each.

His eyes grow dark with lust when he sees her, and he can’t refrain from licking his lips. Josie’s body has that effect on him, even more so when laced up and gartered. And buckled.

“It’s your lucky day,” she continues. “You get to come out and play a little.”

She steps closer and runs the tip of her crop over his lips, the gashes at their edges. They have closed over, but a violent yank could so easily undo that process. Her thumb brushes his lower lip, but he – tearing his eyes away from the plastic cock jutting from between her legs – does no more than glare, and flinches when she touches his pretty purple cheek. He knows she will leave him here to rot if he doesn’t comply at least a little, and ah, his disobedience makes her so creative. The fun you can have with a hammer and a set of pliers. The memory of it alone makes her shiver.

“Fuck you,” he rasps, a little difficult to understand. “I’m quite comfortable in here.”

Her thumbnail grazes his jugular, leaving a fading white line down his throat and up again, guiding his jaw toward her plastic length. “Language, darling. Do I need to repeat my lesson?”

She says that, but in truth she allows him his smart mouth. It looks just too pretty around the black head of her cock. She'd considered cutting out his tongue or pulling it out by the root when she'd drawn the teeth that hadn’t broken from her hammer’s kiss. How much blood he would have offered at her feet! He'd done so anyway, if a little less than she would have preferred, spitting it out as though it were an insult instead of a tribute.

She had twisted her fingers in his hair then (too short for proper fisting) and hooked a leg over his shoulder, rucking up her skirt and allowing him a glimpse of the smooth white skin above her stockings.

“Make use of that pert little tongue of yours, and I’ll let you keep it,” she'd said and the blend of rage and shame and want washing over his features had been entirely delicious.

He'd glared at her dully and moved closer to her cunt, smearing her mound with bright red blood, waxlike, her favorite colour. The first flick of his tongue had sent a jolt of pleasure through her that grew and grew with every following nudge and nip. She'd watched him lose himself to fucking her with his tongue, drowning out his pain with desire. The lower half of his face had glistened with his own blood and her flowing juices, and damn her to Hell and back if that hadn’t been the most beautiful sight she’s seen to date.

He’s not bleeding any longer now, except for that drop trickling from the crack at his lip, though she can easily make him again. She prefers to wait for him begging her to do so, however.

“Has the bite suddenly gone out you?” she remarks at his silence around her cock and smiles, petting his hair. “Good boy. I knew you’d come around one day.”

She unclasps his collar from the cage bar and his head lolls forward, taking her in deeper. He braces himself against his knees when she undoes the chains binding his wrists to the cage bars. He tries to grip her hips with his freed hands, but his arms are heavy and quivering and fall to his sides.

He barely manages to catch himself from falling face first when she steps back, robbing him of her support. She loves him on his knees and appraises his now exposed backside with her riding crop, trailing down the ridge of his spine and smacking each buttock in turn. She lets it clatter to the floor then, no longer needing it.

Settling on her knees behind him, she draws down his panties – the only modesty she allows him here – and rubs her spit-slick cock against his ass. A moan resonates within his chest, and his hips jerk back against her.

“You know how this goes,” she says and rakes her fingers down his back. “Just think of your angel and this will hurt a lot less.”

His developing groan is cut off when she drives inside him hard and fast, denying him the comfort of getting used to the girth. She knows he enjoys his own humiliation as much as she does. He could just never admit to it without her.

“Bitch,” is all he’ll ever spit at her and she glows at the compliment.

“Don’t you wish he was here? Watching you, perhaps? I certainly do. Imagine all the fun we could have together. I could peel off your skin layer by layer and let him heal you afterwards to do it again. Wouldn’t you want that?”

She diminishes her pace then, allowing him the opportunity to bask in that image, and he unravels into broken moans and curses beneath her, probably anticipating his chance to escape, to return the favor for all the dirty things she did to him, fuck her raw and bloody. 

And who knows? Maybe one day if he’s good, she’ll let him.


End file.
